


Now and Then

by dragonimp



Series: Now and Then [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-21
Updated: 2009-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:04:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3472079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed had been doing his best to avoid Mustang for the length of this assignment, but circumstances undermined all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey. Hey!"

The sharp voice cut through the comfortable fog in his brain and Roy winced.

"Colonel!" A hand touched the side of his face. "Will you fucking _wake up_ already?"

He pried his eyes open, and had to blink several times before the blur of color and shadow resolved itself into his youngest subordinate.

"Fine, you're not dead."

Roy coughed, and winced again as his head throbbed. He brought a hand to his forehead and found a rough bandage. "What happened?"

"The floor gave way." Edward sat back to give the older man room to push himself up. "You're so useless, you hit your head on the way down."

Roy scowled, but didn't dignify that with a comment. Instead, he squinted through the dusty air at their surroundings.

"Some kinda basement," Ed said needlessly. "Looks like it's in better shape than that wreck up above."

As if on cue, the beams above them creaked and groaned alarmingly as an anxious voice called out, "Brother? Colonel?"

" _Al-watch-the-floor_!"

"Ah!"

The creaking retreated as the heavy armor withdrew to firmer ground, and they both sighed in relief. "That would be all we'd need," Roy muttered. It was bad enough that he and Edward had fallen down here. He pushed himself to his feet. "We should—" He broke off as the room lurched and swayed. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed against a sudden wave of nausea and bit back a groan.

"Idiot!" Mismatched hands grabbed his arms and he found himself propped up against a wall. "Don't move like that when you've got a concussion!"

"Sir? Edward?" Hawkeye's careful footsteps could be heard moving across the traitorous floor above them. "Are you both all right?"

"We're fine, Lieutenant," he called up without opening his eyes. If he couldn't see the room, then it didn't have a chance of moving when it shouldn't.

Ed snorted. "Stay back from the hole, I'm gonna transmute us a way up."

The colonel risked opening his eyes to see the teen clap. He got few chances to watch the young man perform alchemy. There was something compelling about the circle-less transmutations, something raw and organic.

However, as soon as the boy's hands touched the floor the room around them erupted into blinding arcs of crackling energy. Roy threw himself away from the wall and raised his arms, when suddenly he was flung to the floor with a heavy weight pressing him down.

A moment later, the chaos had ended as soon as it began. He listened to the thud of his heart in the sudden quiet for several seconds before his mind could accept that, yes, he was still in one piece.

"Colonel! Edward!"

"Fuck!" The expletive was hissed next to his ear and he realized what the weight on top of him must be.

Roy grunted as the boy jabbed him several times in the process of pushing himself upright. Thankfully his arm had saved him from getting another concussion, but he had enough bruises without Edward giving him more. "Fullmetal. Just what did you do?"

"It wasn't _me_!" he snapped. "I was only making a ladder! The wall just. . . ." He gestured helplessly. "Went crazy."

Roy raised his head to look at what had previously been a smooth concrete wall. He could see Edward's aborted latter rising about a foot from the floor; behind it, the wall was a twisted mess of shapes. Waves and branches of material crashed and broke against each other, and other, less defined shapes bubbled and sprouted between them. "All the same, I'd prefer you not try again."

The young man rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid." He stood and cautiously approacehed the wall. "It's like a dozen alchemists all transmuting at once."

"But how?" The colonel eased himself to his feet, wary of triggering another wave of vertigo. "And why?"

The floor above them creaked again as Hawkeye edged over to the jagged hole. "Sir?"

"It seems we're stuck for the moment," he confirmed. "See if you can find another way down. For now, Fullmetal and I will continue the investigation down here."

She saluted. "Be careful, Sir. Edward." Roy couldn't see her expression with the light behind her, but knew her well enough to read the genuine concern in her seemingly professional tone. And perhaps something else. He didn't dwell on it, and simply nodded to his lieutenant as she carefully withdrew.

Off to his side, he heard Edward snort and mutter, "So much for keeping out of each other's faces." Perhaps it was the concussion, but Roy thought he seemed much less upset by it than he had a few days ago.

* * *

"This isn't just a quick once-over, this is an entire investigation!" The boy flung the assignment overview back onto Roy's desk. "I don't have time for this!"

Roy suppressed a sigh and nudged the papers off of a stack of folders. "Your last official assignment was concluded three months ago. As far as the military is concerned, you _do_ have the time."

Edward folded his arms and slouched down in his seat; a portrait of a sulky teenager. "Can't believed you called us back to East City for _this_."

Frowning, the colonel separated the first three folders and dropped them into the boy's lap. "So long as you're on the military's payroll, _Fullmetal_ , you will occasionally be called upon to earn your keep." He sighed at the petulant scowl and tapped the remaining folders. "You're not the only one who's been assigned to this case, and I'm no more pleased about it than you. I have enough work on my plate without having to track down rumors."

The teen sank even further down in the chair. "Shit. Don't tell me I have to work with _you_."

"Calm down, Fullmetal. It's not as if we'll be in each other's faces. Your assignment is to figure out the purpose of those formulas." He brandished the top folder in his stack. " _Mine_ is to figure out if there's any pattern to these events. I doubt we'll overlap much."

Edward scowled a moment more, before snatching up the folders and pushing to his feet. "Well, good," he muttered as he stomped out of the office. "I'd probably get sick if I had to stare at your face all day."

"Oh, you will have to check in regularly," he called after the teen. "I'll expect to see you by the end of the day tomorrow."

Roy chuckled to himself at the answering grumble.

* * *

Ed let the flashlight beam play over the mangled wall. There didn't seem to be any sort of pattern to the shapes. They were all organic, without any of the straight lines and angles that alchemists usually favored, but otherwise he couldn't see any order or reason.

He was hyper-aware of Colonel Mustang standing to his left, shining a flashlight at the base of one of the protrusions. It took great effort to keep his attention on the wall and not glance over at the dark-haired man. The panic he'd felt when the colonel had been unresponsive after the fall was still a thick lump in his gut. His relief when the man had finally opened his eyes had almost been palpable.

"There were definitely arrays scratched into the wall," Mustang's deep voice cut through his thoughts. "But the transmutations distorted them."

"Yeah, I think that's why they stopped," Ed confirmed. "The arrays got warped to the point where they were useless." He swung his light over to an untouched portion of the wall. "There's more. It's like someone was using this as a scratch pad."

He spared a glance at Mustang as the older man frowned in concentration at the intact designs. He didn't often see the colonel outside of the office, and he'd never gotten to see him actually _working_ on something like this. It was weird.

"Are these from the equations you studied? Why are they clustered? It's like they're using three arrays to do the work of one."

Ed snapped out of his daze and turned back to the wall. "Yeah. Judging from the formulas, they couldn't stabilize the energy flow with a single array. It's wasteful, though." The young alchemist could easily see how he could accomplish the same thing using concentric circles and a more precise placement of the runes.

He grimaced; not that he would ever _want_ to do such a thing. If he was right about these arrays. . . .

"This one looks like a basic array for altering shape." Mustang indicated the top array in one of the triads. "That one must be the stabilizer. The other. . . ."

" _That_ one stores the energy."

Ed hadn't been able to keep the growl from his voice. He avoided the older man's questioning gaze as he scanned the array clusters on the wall. It looked like the alchemist had been trying to perfect the design. "Step back, I wanna try something."

Mustang shot him a wary look as he moved back several paces. "Fullmetal, are you sure that's wise?"

He tucked his flashlight under his arm and clapped. "What? It's not gonna be a _big_ transmutation." He touched a hand to the floor, and then sprang back.

* * *

"This is the first time you and the colonel have worked together on an assignment, isn't it?"

Ed dropped his chin to his hands and frowned down at the papers on the table. "We're not really working _together_. We're just working on the same thing. He's not even working on any of the alchemy, he dumped all that on me."

"That's too bad," Al commented as he set a stack of tomes on the edge of their table in the library. "I think it would be nice to work with the colonel on something; he's really smart."

Ed scoffed. "He's an arrogant rank-climber. All his smarts go into manipulating the system. He complained, but he probably _volunteered_ for this assignment because he thinks it'll look good on his record. It's all he cares about." He pulled the first book off the stack and flipped to the index, adding in a mutter, "That, and women."

He tried to ignore his brother's tinny laughter as he scanned the list for a chemical he'd seen in three of the formula fragments. Al found it _amusing_ that he'd developed something like a crush on his commanding officer. It was nothing more than his teenage hormones reacting to someone who was, admittedly, quite attractive. It didn't mean anything. Really, Ed couldn't wait for the infatuation to pass, and for his hormones to latch onto someone else—preferably someone who didn't annoy the hell out of him with every other breath. Until then, he had to put up with his little brother's teasing and those stupid twinges of jealousy whenever Mustang went out on a date. At least Al was the only one who'd noticed. As far as he could tell, no one else had even noticed his lack of interest in girls. He wanted to keep it that way.

". . . Did it come from?"

Ed blinked up from the text. "Huh?"

Al's helm shifted in a way that Ed recognized as a smile. "I said, if the colonel's been assigned to work on this too, where did the assignment come from? Who assigned it?"

"Oh. I dunno." He frowned. "Didn't think to ask that."

"Of course you didn't, Brother." Al sat down across from him and picked up one of the books.

"What does it matter? Let's just get this done so we can go back to our own work."

* * *

"Tripwire arrays?"

"Yeah." Fullmetal grimaced at the mutilated wall. All the arrays in about a five-foot radius had responded to the small transmutation, but not equally. A few had barely warped the concrete. "These seem to be from the development stages. They're only triggered by nearby alchemy, and there doesn't seem to be any direction to them."

Roy frowned at the young man's tone. Alchemists had been trying to come up with arrays that could function as alarms and tripwires for ages, but hadn't been able to get past the basic fact that arrays needed the will of an alchemist to activate and direct them. But instead of seeming pleased or excited by this apparent breakthrough, Ed appeared disgusted.

Edward swung the flashlight beam over the rest of the basement room and Roy followed his gaze. Boxes and piles covered much of the floor. A large table was pushed against the far wall, its surface littered with papers. Haphazard chalk lines marred the nearby wall, a striking contrast to the neat scratches on the wall behind them.

As the teen picked his way toward the table, Roy turned his attention to the detritus cluttering the floor. Most of it seemed to be the ephemera common to any lab; used beakers and flasks, crumpled paper, scrap pieces of different materials that showed evidence of transmutations, jars and cartons labeled with different elements or chemicals. But there were also blankets and a cushion in one corner, piles of clothes, and a wastebasket with some moldy odds and ends that had probably once been food. It was obvious someone was using this for more than a lab.

In the center of the room, a rotten staircase rose about five feet before the collapsed boards made it unusable. The trapdoor above it had been nailed shut. From the look of things, no one had used that entrance in years.

Roy grimaced and rubbed his forehead. The headache was making it hard to think anything through. he scanned the layout of the room again. No other stairs. No ladder or sign of a hatch entrance, either. If the floor hadn't given way beneath them, they probably wouldn't have found this basement. And yet the room was clearly in use. "How do they come and go?"

"Huh?" Edward barely looked up from the papers.

"There're no stairs."

Ed swung his light around the room again. It paused briefly at the ruined staircase, then continued along the walls. "That's weird. Obviously someone's using this—there. That wall."

Most of the wall was concrete, but there was an uneven patch toward one end. Coming closer, Roy could see the outline of a door that had been obscured by a stack of boxes. The wall a few feet on either side seemed to be lath-and-plaster.

Edward grinned as he walked over. "How much you wanna bet that's not part of the original design?"

"Mm. But if an alchemist is using this as a laboratory, then why wasn't this door made with alchemy?"

"Dunno." The teen jiggled the lock, the stuck his flashlight under his arm and clapped.

"Fullmetal, wait!" Roy grabbed his wrist and the boy shot him an irritated frown. "Do you want to trigger more of those?" He jerked a nod at the opposite wall, wincing when the movement made his head throb. "We have no way of knowing what arrays are under the plaster."

Ed's eyes widened in understanding, and his frown turned pensive as he glanced back at the door. "Good point." A moment later he added a quiet, "Um."

Roy realized he was still holding onto the young man's arm and quickly let go. Odd; he would have expected Ed to simply snatch his arm away. "We may have gotten our answer about the construction of the door," he added.

"Um. Yeah." Edward cleared his throat and reassessed the door. "Well then," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face, "Plan B."

Roy jumped back as a metal fist smashed into the wood. "A little warning next time!"

Ed scoffed and punched the door again. "Desk job make you soft, Colonel?"

He scowled, raising his arms against the flying splinters. "Hardly. I'm just used to people with a little more _discipline_."

"You're confusing discipline with being whipped."

He had to admit, it wasn't always easy to tell the difference in the military.

"There we go." Edward hooked his fingers through the ruined hole in the wood and swung the door inward.

"So much for stealth."

"We lost that when we fell through the floor."

"True enough."

The young man paused a moment before going through the door. "Speaking of," he said, without turning, "how's your head?"

Roy gingerly felt the back of his head. His hair was sticky with blood, and there was a good sized lump under the crude bandage, but the vertigo seemed to be gone. At least when he didn't move suddenly. "I'll manage."

Edward grunted. "Good. Not that I care or anything," he added hastily. "It's just that—well, Hawkeye would be upset."

He raised an eyebrow as he followed the teen into the dark passageway. "Of course. We wouldn't want _that_." Interesting.

* * *

" _The house is condemned, has been for years_ ," Hughes informed him. "It's hidden from view from the street, but the neighborhood kids have been known to goof off on the property."

Roy propped the phone against his shoulder and made some notes. "Are the kids the ones who heard the noises?"

" _Yep. Most of them think it's haunted." He laughed. "So the credibility of those reports might be in question_."

"The property is owned by J. Oxgrave?"

" _That's right. He inherited it a few years ago, but it hasn't been in use for a decade or more. He lives somewhere in the south, and doesn't seem to pay much attention to it_."

"And his brother?"

" _As far as I can tell, they don't have much contact. Matthew Oxgrave has been a hard one to track, he doesn't seem to have much traceable contact with anybody_."

"But the reports we do have of the last few months all place him within a few hours of that property."

" _Right. But no one has reported any signs that the house was occupied. As near as I can tell, he rents a room about three blocks away, further up the hill_."

"Still, it's worth checking out."

" _Mm. So. . . ." Roy cringed as he listened to the change in his friend's tone. "I suppose you'll be bringing Ed along_."

"Yes. I suppose I will be," he said through gritted teeth.

" _This'll be the first time you've worked with him outside of the office, won't it_?"

"It'll be the first time we've worked together at all." Roy didn't want to admit that, as apprehensive as he was, part of him was looking forward to it.

" _Really? Two highly talented state alchemists, and you've never had the opportunity to work together? That's a shame_."

He bit back an exasperated sigh. "You know it doesn't work that way. Fullmetal is on the road more often than not, anyway."

" _Pity. But then, I suppose that makes it easier to keep your hands off of him_."

One of these days he was going to break the phone with how violently he tended to ended his conversations with Hughes.

* * *

Their footsteps echoed off the stone walls; Mustang's with sharp, military precision, and Ed's with the uneven cadence he'd had since he was twelve. It was a striking contrast, and Ed wondered if all soldiers habitually marched. It wasn't something he could imagine himself ever doing.

"This tunnel had to have been shaped by alchemy," Mustang observed. "The walls are too smooth."

"Yeah, but it's old. Much older than the door."

They fell into silence again. Interacting with the colonel outside of the office like this was still something Ed was having a hard time getting used to. The man wasn't so bad when he wasn't being an ass.

But he couldn't let _him_ know that.

The passage terminated at another door. But before they reached it, a scraping on the other side made them freeze.

Mustang clicked off his flashlight and with a start Ed did the same. A second later the door swung open. Weak lantern light spilled in, and Ed got the impression of a skinny figure of medium height, before the person swore and slammed the door shut.

"Shit!" Ed sprinted the last few steps and skidded, almost slamming into the door in the dark.

"Fullmetal!"

He flipped his flashlight on and found the door handle, and yanked the door open.

The rapidly retreating light beyond an irregular stone archway was all Ed took the time to notice as he sprinted. If this man was involved with those arrays, then he had some answering to do.

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of his quarry about ten yards away. " _Hey_!"

The man glanced back, then put his head down to try to gain speed, but Ed closed on him easily. He snared the back of a ratty jacket and yanked, bringing the taller figure up short. The man crumpled, dropping his lantern and scrambling against the rough floor.

"Are you the fucker who made those arrays?" The man squirmed against his hold and Ed gave him a sharp shake. " _Are you_?"

"I—I don't—" The man twisted and reached back, and clamped both hands onto Ed's arm.

Automail has some feedback sensors, but compared to a natural limb, it's essentially numb. So the pain that suddenly shot up his right arm took Ed completely by surprise.

He cried out and jerked his arm back, but the man held on fast. His arm felt like it had been dipped in acid. The pain was crawling up his shoulder, spreading from the port to his nerves and across his back, clouding his senses and slowing his reflexes. He jerked back again but his arm wasn't responding properly. "Fuck—let _go_!"

The man was on his knees now, looking up with a crazed mix of fear and amazement. "I didn't—think that would actually _work_. You must've—" Flames erupted between them and he broke off with a cry.

Ed stumbled back and fell to the ground, clutching at his arm. He was dimly aware that the man was now huddled in a fetal position, but the residual pain wasn't allowing for much thought.

Black boots stepped into his line of sight, and an icy voice said, "That's my subordinate you were attacking."

* * *

One minor burn and the man was huddled and whimpering. Pathetic. But it gave him a moment to check on Edward.

"Fullmetal?" He spared a quick glance at the prone form.

"I'm _fine_." Said through gritted teeth.

Roy glanced over again as Edward pushed himself upright. The kid didn't sound fine.

He opened his mouth to state this when the ground just ahead of him bucked and shot upwards. He stumbled back, his arms pinwheeling in a futile attempt to regain his balance. An arm caught his waist as he fell, mostly breaking his fall, but his head still connected painfully with the stone floor.

He groaned, clutching at his head. 

Ed squirmed out from beneath him. "Shit—you okay?" There was a clatter, and then a light shone against his closed eyelids. "Colonel?"

"I'm fine," he asserted, lifting a hand to block the light. He didn't _think_ he'd gotten a second concussion, but it was hard to tell. "No worse than I was, anyway." He rolled to his side and pushed himself up. "I suppose he's long gone by now," he added, eyeing the new wall.

"Probably." The young man set the flashlight down and raised his hands. The hesitation before he clapped was brief, but noticeable. When he touched his hands to the stone the light from the transmutation highlighted an odd, pensive expression on his face. "This cave branches, and there's no way to tell which one he took," he said, shining the flashlight through the reopened tunnel.

"Mm. We're in danger of getting ourselves lost as it is." Roy stood, gingerly rubbing the new tender spot on the back of his head as he watched Edward get to his feet. The teen was flexing his automail hand as if unsure of it. "What about you? You didn't look so well when I got here."

"I'm fine."

The older man paused long enough to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

Edward grimaced and rubbed at his right shoulder, near the port. "He was doing some kinda weird shit to my automail, but it's all right now."

He studied the young man in the poor light. He was steady, but seemed very conscious of his arm, and was maybe a little too pale.

Roy closed his eyes, trying to think through the fog of pain and unexpected emotions. When he'd seen Fullmetal being attacked, the surge of rage had almost blinded him. The only thing that had kept him from incinerating that unknown alchemist had been his proximity to Edward. It had only been afterwards, when Ed was safe, that the potential foolishness of such a brash action had occurred to him. And now the mingled relief and concern was making rational thought hard. He was protective of all his subordinates, but this felt different. It was a difference he was reluctant to look at too closely.

"Mustang?"

And that was another thing; was Fullmetal actually concerned about _him_?

"The last thing we want to do is get ourselves lost down here." He glanced back the way they had come, then down the passage the alchemist had used. "But we should pursue him. We can mark our path as we go."

"I hope you have something to make marks with, then," Edward commented as he stepped through the opening in the barrier. "I've stopped carrying chalk; it kept getting crushed."

"You've gotten spoiled." Roy unfastened his uniform jacket to search the inner pockets.

The teen snorted. "Al says that, too. He thinks I should carry some, just in case."

"You should." He found a chalk stub and refastened his jacket, then stooped to pick up his flashlight. "It always pays to be prepared." He straightened—and groped for the wall as the room lurched and swayed. He steadied himself as much as he could and brought the other up to his forehead, closing his eyes.

"I told you not to move like that, dumbass!"

Ed's hand gripped his shoulder, and Roy found himself unconsciously leaning into the stability. "I'm fine. Just give me a second. . . ."

"You're not _fine_ , you have a concussion," he snapped. "Two, for all I know."

"There isn't much we can do about that here, it there?" The room had settled, so he pushed away from the wall and lowered his hands. "If we can't find that alchemist, let's at least see if we can find a way out of here."

"Yeah." Edward stepped back, and Roy was surprised to find himself disappointed by the loss. "Yeah, we should."

* * *

Elsewhere, a rogue alchemist was making a mad dash for the surface and, he hoped, salvation.


	2. Chapter 2

"Right. If we bare left, we're heading further into the hillside."

"You're turned around."

"The hill is eastward from the house, and the tunnel from the basement headed south-east, so to head back out—"

"North-east."

"—What?"

"That tunnel headed east-north-east. I told you you were turned around."

"Facing the north face of the house, the tunnel was in the back left corner—"

"The house isn't square to the hill, and anyway the tunnel wasn't straight—"

They both broke off when they came to a junction, their flashlights playing over depressingly familiar stone walls.

"We've been here before, haven't we."

"Yep. There's the mark."

Roy sighed, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. He'd lost track of how long they'd been down here. And now, faced with proof that they were, indeed, going in circles, going any farther seemed like an exercise in futility. Some of the cave system appeared to be natural, but much of it had obviously been shaped by alchemy, and Roy wondered if it had been purposely made confusing. The urge to start making their own tunnels simply to have a straight shot to _somewhere_ was strong, but they'd found more of those triad arrays on a few of the walls. He felt like the warrior searching for the minotaur.

"Come on. I remember another branch about twenty feet down."

He sighed again. They really should keep going, but he wasn't sure he had the energy.

"Hey. Colonel shit."

Fullmetal's taunts were usually good for some amusement if nothing else, but right now he couldn't be bothered to respond.

Something hard jabbed into his stomach and he doubled over with a grunt. "What—the _hell_ —"

"You are _not_ giving up that easily." Fullmetal grabbed his collar and yanked him away from the wall.

Roy stumbled and grabbed the teen's arm for balance, then pulled back, wrenching his jacket out of his grip. "You dare lay hands on—"

"Pull rank on someone who gives a shit." He grabbed the jacket again and pulled him down. "You don't get the _luxury_ of giving up, bastard."

Narrowing his eyes, he reached up and deliberately pulled the fabric out of the young man's fist. "Don't mistake me, Fullmetal," he said as he straightened. "I have no intention of giving up."

Edward scoffed. "Better not."

* * *

"Am I missing something?" Roy leaned his forehead against his hand and scowled at the papers spread out over his table. He didn't like taking work home like this, but had thought they might want to keep this off the military lines. "Oxgrave isn't exactly a model citizen, but I don't see anything that would pique the military's interest."

" _I'm afraid I'm missing it, too_ ," Hughes admitted. " _I can't find anything worse than petty theft and some minor tax evasion. I was hoping there was something you or Ed picked up on_."

"According to Fullmetal, the equations are all in fragments, but the few they've pieced together seem to be for the mining and refinement of minerals."

" _Hardly suspicious activities on their own_."

"No, they're not." He frowned at his notes from that afternoon's debriefing with the young alchemist.

" _Mm, but you suspect there's something he's not saying_."

Roy chuckled. "Astute, as usual." He leaned back in his chair. "Fullmetal is . . . _transparent_ , in a lot of ways. He keeps his secrets, but his emotions tend to be right on the surface."

" _And his reaction was unusual for 'mining equations_.'"

"Mm. Something was bothering him. But he wouldn't say what."

" _Did you try asking him_?"

He snorted. "I know you haven't interacted with Fullmetal all that much, but right then that would've been the quickest way to get him to shut down."

" _He seems amiable enough to me_."

"Like I said, you haven't interacted with him much."

Hughes chuckled. " _Well, I suppose you would know him better than I_."

Something in his friend's tone made him raise an eyebrow. "I have known him since he was twelve," he said, carefully.

" _Oh, when you say_ that, _it sounds_ bad."

"Hughes. . . ." Roy pinched the bridge of his nose and listened to the tinny laughter. "Back to the topic _at hand_ ," he growled. "Unless Fullmetal provides me with more information, there's nothing here that should interest the military."

" _Right, right. Well, I'll do some more poking around, see if there's any history with the family or anything_."

"Thank you. In the mean time, I'll have to proceed as if this is a normal investigation."

" _Mm_." He paused. " _You might try shifting your approach with Ed. Maybe you could get him to open up if you were more . . . personal_?"

"Hughes!"

* * *

"What I wouldn't give for a ball of yarn."

Ed let out a startled laugh at the reference. "If you figure out a way to make an unending ball of yarn, you let me know."

Mustang chuckled. "Would that make it the Philosopher's Stone of yarn?"

"Ha! Probably."

They fell into an easy silence. Ed was relieved that Mustang's mood seemed to have picked up. Seeing him so defeated had frightened the younger alchemist more than he wanted to admit. The colonel had long been one of the few solid constants in his life; an irritant more often than not, but something he knew he could fall back on. But at that moment, he'd seemed . . . vulnerable.

And _human_.

Ed paused to mark the wall by the juncture. "So was that that Oxgrave guy you said owned that house?"

"Hm?" The older man glanced at him as they headed down the passage. "I suspect not. I didn't get a very good look at him, but he didn't match the physical description. Furthermore," he continued, "while the reports said that Oxgrave had dabbled in alchemy, there was nothing to indicate that he would have the level of knowledge we saw today."

"So that was somebody else entirely. Who?"

"That is the question, isn't it."

They fell silent again.

"Now it's your turn."

Ed blinked and glanced up in the dark. "Huh?"

"What aren't you telling me about those arrays?"

He scowled. Mustang's tone had been carefully neutral, but something made Ed suspect that the other man wouldn't accept being brushed off.

"That third array in the triad?" He grimaced; saying it out loud somehow made it that much more real. "It's a soul bond."

Mustang stopped. After a step or two Ed did the same, turning to face his commander.

"Fullmetal. Are you telling me that there are souls bonded to that wall?"

"Well, to the arrays," he corrected. "I doubt they're human, unless there's been a rash of disappearances you haven't told me about. They were probably experimenting with animals."

Mustang was silent. Ed moved his flashlight beam high enough to see the other man's face; he couldn't predict how he would react.

"You mean that those arrays," he said, his voice perfect level, "are able to act as tripwires because they use _living beings_ as—as some sort of catalyst?"

"More or less," Ed admitted.

After a long pause where Ed could feel the weight of the older man's considering gaze, Mustang said, "Had you known this?"

"I wasn't—certain." He glanced away, scratching the back of his head. "The equations were incomplete."

"You said they were for mining."

"They are," he insisted, meeting his commander's eyes. "The ones we could piece together were modified versions of the basic formulas used for extracting and purifying iron and other minerals."

"But there were other fragments."

Ed turned and paced a few steps down the passage, striking the heel of his boot at an uneven patch of stone. " _Yeah_." He let out a sigh that was more than half growl. "Yeah, there were other fragments. A lot of them looked like attempts to stabilize the energy. But a few of them. . . ." He kicked the ground again. "I'm not even sure I could explain what tipped me off. It's not like you see this kind of thing in a reference book. But there was something about those equations that just. . . ." He sighed again, and turned around. "It could've been. But it could've been a lot of things."

After a moment of silence, Mustang said simply, "I see."

"I didn't want to say anything unless I was sure. Even if it was, it didn't look like they would be very successful at it. They weren't doing it right to get a stable bond. Nobody'd gone missing, so I didn't think anything had come of it."

"What you mean is, you'd hoped that by not saying anything, it wouldn't become true."

Ed bristled. But Mustang merely sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "I would probably want to turn away from something like that, as well."

The quiet admission left Ed dumbfounded. He'd never seen the colonel drop his guard like that, even if it was only a little. He wasn't sure how to react.

Mustang started down the corridor again and Ed quickly followed suit. "Yeah, well, not looking at something doesn't make it go away," he grumbled, jogging a few steps to catch up. He had to take three steps to the taller man's two, but he was used to that.

"No, it doesn't," Mustang agreed. After a pause, he said, "Explain those arrays to me. Why do you say they wouldn't get a stable bond?"

"You can't bond a soul to just anything. There needs to be some sort of . . . I guess you could call it a sympathy, or resonance." Ed frowned, running a hand through his hair. This wasn't something he'd ever had to put into words before. Most of his understanding of it was instinctual. "Al's bond works because the iron in the blood-seal reacts with the iron in the armor. But if you tried to bind a soul to another substance, like, say, a wooden doll, then the bond would be limited to the array. If it took at all. There's always the chance the soul would reject the bond." He'd never admitted to his brother that he hadn't been sure it would work. He had barely been able to admit the possibility to himself. "But they're not even trying for a complete bond. All they want is something that will kick-start the arrays."

"The arrays weren't drawn in blood."

"I suspect there's iron in the lines of the array, probably some other minerals—that's why they're scratched in instead of drawn in chalk." He shrugged. "I dunno how close it needs to be to blood to have a bond, not for the kind they're using in there."

"Hm. That might explain the mining equations, at least."

But if a soul only bonded partway, what was the result? It wasn't like working with a physical substance. Where the beings attached to those arrays still conscious? Or was it the equivalent of a coma?

"When the arrays on that wall activated," Mustang said, breaking into his thoughts, "the transmutations distorted the markings. They effectively committed suicide."

"I don't think they were aware enough to know what they were doing. But that was the end result, yeah."

After a moment, he remarked, "I don't know if that's better or worse. The not knowing. Either way, they were still living beings."

Ed paused in mid-stride, glancing up at the older man.

"Someone with that kind of disregard," he continued, turning, "how long will it be before he does start using humans?"

* * *

If the military had gotten wind of the tripwire arrays, it would explain why they had taken such an interest in the case. But then why hadn't there been anything about it in the materials? Was someone withholding information? But where and how would someone have found out?

Roy grimaced and pressed his knuckles into his temple. It seemed to him that only someone with Fullmetal's unique knowledge base could have recognized the purpose of the fragments. Was that why he'd been requested for this assignment? But that made no sense; no one else in the military was aware of the details of the kid's past, Roy had made sure of that. Did this mean someone had found out?

He scoffed, and rubbed his forehead. Now he was being paranoid. If someone _was_ aware, they could have expected a lot worse than a targeted assignment.

"Trying to think through something like that only makes it worse, y'know."

Roy glanced up at the mild comment. Ed had been quiet for several minutes, something he'd been too distracted by his own thoughts to realize. "You speak from experience?"

"I've taken a few knocks."

The young man stopped abruptly and tugged on his arm. When Roy turned toward him he got a flashlight beam full in the face. "What—?" He winced and tried to shield his eyes, but Edward grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand out of the way.

"Just let me see your eyes a sec. Shoulda done this earlier. . . ."

"What are you—?" He blinked and squinted past the harsh light. Edward was frowning up into his face from only a few inches away. The proximity combined with the surprisingly gentle metal grip on his wrist were starting to make him uncomfortable, but he refused to step back.

"Shit, can't tell." The teen lowered the flashlight and stepped away, and Roy found himself almost physically off-balance.

"Can't tell _what_?" he snapped, blinking and rubbing his eyes. "Do you mind explaining why you suddenly tried to blind me?"

"I was trying to see if your pupils are acting right." His tone indicated that it should have been obvious. "But I can't tell. Your eyes are too dark."

"Perhaps next time you could give me some warning?"

"Yeah, sure." The eye-roll was perfectly clear in his voice. "Next time you get concussed I'll be sure to spell it out for you."

"It's not too much to ask for a little common courtesy," he ground out.

"Whatever."

The footsteps echoing off the stone walls indicated that he'd resumed walking, and Roy fell into step beside him, still trying to blink spots out of his eyes. Harder to get rid of were the concerned gold eyes that had burned themselves into his mind. Edward really did have the most striking eyes he'd ever seen, and to have them focused on him so intensely was . . . he wasn't sure what he was feeling.

"You're not—" Ed started after a moment, "—you're not feeling sick or seeing double or anything, are you?"

"I'm having trouble seeing much of anything, thanks to you," he grumbled.

The young man glanced up at him. "I'm serious."

Roy suppressed a sigh. "I'm fine."

"You still getting dizzy?"

"No, that seems to have passed."

"Good. I just mean it would be inconvenient," he added in a rush. "If you, y'know, passed out or something."

The retort died on Roy's lips as something finally clicked into place. And with it, a pattern of behavior suddenly made perfect sense. The revelation almost made him halt mid-stride.

Ed looked over at the hitch in his step. "What?"

"Nothing. A stray thought."

"Huh."

He sounded dubious, but didn't press further, and for that Roy was grateful. He wasn't sure he could pull off a verbal misdirection at the moment.

He wasn't thinking properly. He couldn't be. He was most likely projecting his own (purely physical) attraction to the teen and confusing it with Ed's compassionate nature. The kid hated him, he acted nothing but annoyed whenever they were in the same room—

—Which was exactly what someone his age and temperament would do to mask deeper feelings.

Roy sighed and ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. It had been bad enough when Fullmetal had matured from an awkward preteen into a stunning young man seemingly over night, but Roy was used to wanting what he couldn't have. Once he had gotten used to the boy no longer being a _boy_ , it had been easy enough to admire what was in front of him while still maintaining his aloof separation. A physical attraction didn't mean anything, and that's all it was. He'd made sure of that.

But Edward never did anything by halves, and Roy had no delusions that anything the teen was feeling would be simple. If feelings were involved in this, then the situation was suddenly much trickier.

Damn Fullmetal. Damn his knack for making a mess of everyone else's carefully constructed plans. Damn him for being desirable.

And damn him for being right about trying to think through a concussion.

Next to him, Ed chuckled. "You're trying to think again, aren't y—" He broke off in a gasp, stopping abruptly.

"What—?" Roy turned, watching the young man, and the way he was clutching at his right arm, with a surge of concern. "Fullmetal, what is it?"

"I think—" he started, turning slowly as if trying to pinpoint a sound, "I think it's . . . resonating, or something."

"Resonating?" He narrowed his eyes. "From what happened earlier?"

"Yeah, it— _shit_ , it's stopped." The flashlight clattered against the ground as he slapped his palms together.

Roy grabbed his arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing??"

"Any 'tripwires' will've been triggered already by whatever he just did, we don't have time to argue." Ed jerked out of his grip and slammed his hands to the ground. "We need to act while we know where he is!"

* * *

"It should be around here, I think." Al carefully picked his way across the uneven slope. The stones here were loose and he'd already dislodged several. "I remember reading that the entrance was in the south-east face of the hill."

"How likely is it that this cave system connects to the basement of the Oxgrave house?" Lieutenant Hawkeye called from a little ways ahead. Smaller and lighter, she was having an easier time navigating the hillside.

"Well, it was rumored," he said, stepping over some loose rocks. "I found an old news article that talked about smuggling and theorized that the caves had to be connected to the house. The caves are like a maze, though, so no one could be sure. No one could find the other end."

"Like a maze, are they," she echoed. Al could tell she was thinking along the same lines he was: Ed and Colonel Mustang might get lost down there.

"I meant to tell Brother about the caves," the boy mused, "but he's been too distracted lately. He wants me to think it's just because of working with the colonel but I think there's something else."

"Working with Colonel Mustang has been distracting to Edward, has it?" Hawkeye commented, mildly.

"Ah! Um—" Al jerked, then scrambled to regain his footing as the rocks shifted beneath him. "I—I mean he's not used to, uh, working with someone else—"

"Alphonse." The lieutenant's tone was amused, but warm. She smiled back at him from where she was leaning against a bolder. "I've been noticing for some time that Edward is often _distracted_ by the colonel."

"You . . . noticed that, huh?"

"It's been pretty obvious, if you know what to look for." She eased herself down a ridge, then continued, "In all honesty, I can't say I blame him."

"Brother doesn't think anyone else knows." Al would have sighed, if he'd had the breath for it. He jumped down beside her. "I think he's embarrassed."

"No one at the office would think it was a big deal," she assured him. "He might get teased, but they wouldn't really care."

Alphonse considered this as they continued to look. He and his brother were used to the admittedly narrow views of the small town where they'd grown up. When they'd started traveling they'd realized that views and opinions varied from town to town and region to region, but even in the large cities it seemed that homosexuality wasn't looked on kindly. Ed acted like he didn't care, but Al could tell it bothered him. But perhaps they hadn't been paying the right kind of attention.

He paused as something occurred to him. "Lieutenant? You don't think the colonel has noticed—has he?" Ed would be mortified; but if Colonel Mustang didn't think it was a bad thing, then maybe it would be okay.

Hawkeye straightened from her examination of the ground and turned toward the hillside, something like fond exasperation on her face. "I think he's been too busy trying to ignore something else," she said after a moment.

"Something else?"

"There's a path over here." She indicated a stretch of ground where the vegetation was thin. "It might lead to the cave."

Al fell into step behind the lieutenant, wondering what the colonel was ignoring that could make him miss something that his aide thought was obvious; she could have meant simply that Mustang was not very observant, but it didn't seem like that. Edward wouldn't be happy to hear that he was being obvious, though. Al thought he might keep that to himself.

The trail thinned as vegetation gave way to stone, and they slowed to scan the area. "Alphonse, you said there's been something else distracting your brother," Hawkeye said as she navigated up a steep part of the slope. "Was it something from this assignment?"

"He won't tell me." He hovered beneath her for a moment, just in case her footing gave way. "He keeps insisting nothing's wrong. But _something's_ got him edgy. He's lousy at hiding it." Hawkeye had made it to firm ground now, so Al set about finding footholds stable enough to hold his bulk. "I looked at the same formulas that he did, but I couldn't see anything odd."

"I see."

They headed for a likely crevasse, accompanied by the crunch and scrape of stones underfoot and the ever-present clanking of armor. Al found himself thinking back over the formula fragments he and his brother had been studying; the few they had been able to piece together with reasonable certainty seemed to be for mining, and most of the other fragments didn't make sense on their own. He certainly hadn't seen anything alarming. Maybe his brother's mood had to do with whatever had caused that reaction in the basement. He wished he'd seen it—from Hawkeye's description and the little he'd been able to hear it seemed fascinating. But he couldn't figure out how it related to the fragments.

Hawkeye braced against one edge of the opening and leaned inside. "It's definitely a cave of some depth." She straightened, and gave her companion an apologetic smile. "It might be a tight fit for you, though."

"Tight fit" was an understatement. Anyone much larger than Hawkeye would have had a problem. "That's okay. I can always try to widen it if I need to."

"I'll see if it gets any wider further in." She pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket and stepped into the shadows.

"Ah! Hold on, Lieutenant." Al reached into the small pouch he kept tied to his leg and removed a piece of chalk. "Here," he said as he held it out. "So you don't get lost."

She accepted the chalk with a smile. "Good idea."

"Be careful."

While he waited, Al examined the surrounding area. The ground immediately around the cave was rocky and nearly barren, making it impossible to find any trail. Further down he could see the trail they'd followed. It was narrow, but looked well-worn; he suspected it saw a lot of use. Did that mean someone was living in the caves? Or maybe using them as an entrance. He hoped Hawkeye didn't run into trouble. He would hope his brother didn't run into trouble, but that was like hoping the sun wouldn't set, so he hoped that his brother and the colonel didn't run into anything they couldn't handle.

Alphonse ran his hand down the side of the crevice. It looked natural—almost. The variations in the stone were too regular and even. Whoever had shaped it had taken care to hide any of the telltale artifacts typically left over from alchemy, but had tried too hard to make the stone look "random," and instead had made it look anything but. It was a common mistake, and a dead giveaway.

Al brushed away some of the dirt and small stones around the base of the opening. The shaping hadn't been quite so careful here, there were a few spots where the rock leading up to the wall of the cave was too smooth. From the amount of wear and the small plants that worked their way into cracks, the stone hadn't been shaped recently.

Scratches about halfway up the side of the opening made him pause. Al crouched down, bracing himself against the stone to get a better look. The marks were mostly in shadow, but they were definitely an array. No, make that multiple arrays. He traced the edge of one of the circles with a leather finger. Two of the arrays looked pretty basic but the third one. . . . It was a design he'd never seen before, but there was something almost . . . not exactly _familiar_ , but. . . . He couldn't put his finger on it.

A sudden shout snapped Al's attention away from the array. He heard Hawkeye's voice, commanding someone to stop, a scuffle, running—

Alphonse had just grabbed another piece of chalk and was getting ready to widen the opening when a strange man skidded to a halt in front of him. The man stumbled and staggered back, his attention jerking between Al and Hawkeye's fast approaching footsteps—and then lurched forward, his hands stretched out toward Al's chest-plate.

* * *

Despite what he'd said, Ed knew he was taking a risk. He was acting on guesswork and vague feelings he didn't completely understand, but if they took the time to deliberate then they would lose their chance. He knew his arm had reacted to what had felt like a wave of alchemic energy, so he aimed his transmutation toward the source of the wave. He'd have to deal with any complications as they came.

Mustang was shielding his eyes from the transmutation flare but hovered at his shoulder, something almost protective in his stance. Despite his irritation at the implication that he might need protecting, Ed found it oddly touching.

He put those thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the alchemy. Shaping a tunnel was a delicate matter of shifting the densities in the packed earth and stone. If not done properly, he could cause rockbursts or a cave-in, and that was without the added potential hazard of the tripwire arrays.

The tunnel broke into an open area and he stopped; if he needed to go further, it would be better to start a new transmutation.

He was just standing when an arc of light swung into the end of the passage, and he tensed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the colonel raise a gloved hand, as a figure stepped in behind the flashlight beam.

"Edward—Colonel?"

" _Hawkeye_?" Ed sprinted down the passage. If she was here, that meant that crazy alchemist could have been attacking her—or Al.

He skidded into the narrow chamber, quickly glancing around. The alchemist must be nearby—

"Edward, wait—"

—There. Around the curve of the passage there was a patch of daylight, and silhouetted by it—

Ed gasped, and stared in disbelief at the scene in front of him. The skinny figure at the entrance was the alchemist they'd run into earlier, but he wasn't leaning against the wall as Ed had first thought; he was pinned there, held in place by tapering stone protrusions that extended across the opening. Most of the spires had shattered harmlessly against the opposite wall, but not all.

He could hear Hawkeye explaining the situation to Mustang, but he ignored them, slowly approaching the impaled man. Two of the spikes had pierced the man's side; he was still alive, trembling and muttering weakly, but judging by the trickle of blood at his lips, his chances weren't good.

"Brother!" Al was half-sprawled on the ground just outside, where he'd apparently fallen back. "He-he attacked me somehow, and then—then—"

"One of the tripwire arrays." Ed ran his hand over the base of the protrusions, picking out the now-familiar scratches. "Looks like this one had a little more direction than the others."

"Fullmetal?"

He glanced back at his commander. "It was designed to block off the entrance," he reasoned, pressing his hands together. He severed the spikes, leaving the tips in the wounds while dissolving the rest back into the wall, and watched the man slump to the ground with a strange blend of pity and revulsion. "Can't imagine this is what he had in mind, though."

"Not . . . not going back." The man reached for the ground and Ed grabbed his wrists, holding his hands, and the arrays tattooed onto them, away from the stone. "Won't go back . . . you won't take me back. . . ."


	3. Chapter 3

Ed scowled at the paper in front of him. He hated misdirection. If he was going to withhold information he preferred to say nothing at all; these half-truths and selective withholdings made his head spin.

"Is there proof of what these arrays are? Anything that proves why they react they way they do?" the colonel had said, his dark eyes sharp and intense. No, of course there wasn't. Ed only knew because he _knew_.

Mustang had simply nodded when Ed had explained this, as if that had been the answer he'd been expecting. "Include only verifiable facts in your report," he'd said then. "Leave out guesswork and theorizing."

It wasn't "guesswork," and Ed had bristled at the implication, but he'd understood the colonel's meaning well enough. So now he and Al were seated in Mustang's office, trying to figure out just how much they could say without saying too much.

Ed pushed his hair back and read over what he'd just written, crossing out a few pieces and rewording them for what must have been the third or fourth time. "There." He shoved the papers toward his brother, then thunked his elbows on the desk and scrunched his fingers through his hair. "Does that work?"

"You misspelled 'concrete.'"

"Whatever! Just read it over."

Ed let his eyes drift over the colonel's desk as Al read through the report. Aside from some paperwork and a stand with a few pens, the desk was bare. There were no photographs, no nicknacks—nothing personal. It was as if Mustang-the-person didn't exist here at all.

Just about every part of Mustang's façade was carefully constructed and calculated, to the point where Ed had been sure he'd never get to see anything else. But down there in the caves, it seemed the mask had slipped. They'd argued, talked theory, snipped at each other—Mustang had even joked with him. It had been . . . nice. Almost as if they'd been friends. And a few times, the way the older man had acted toward him had seemed . . . like maybe something other than friendship.

Ed ground the heel of his hands into his eyes. He was imagining things. He was—what was that term?—projecting. Because there was no way Mustang thought of him like _that_.

"I don't think you need to actually say you don't know."

Ed blinked and raised his head. "Huh?"

"Right here, Brother." Al slid the papers back to him and pointed to a piece he'd crossed out. "Just describe what happened and don't offer any explanation. Otherwise I think this should work."

"Yeah, okay." Ed pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and started copying over his report. It was such a pain; normally he didn't care, he simply wrote up the first thing that came to mind.

"Why does the colonel want you to leave out any theories, anyway?"

He paused in his writing; that's right, Al didn't know. "Well, we don't really know what that guy did, and if we guess, it could be wrong," he reasoned.

"That's never stopped you before."

Well, no, it never had, had it.

"Whatever he did, to my arm and when he attacked you, could be really dangerous," he tried again. "Mustang just doesn't want the wrong people to get ideas."

Al put a hand against his chest-plate. "I wish we did know what he did," he said, wistfully. "It actually . . . it actually hurt. I haven't felt pain in so long. . . . In a way, it was kinda nice." He curled his hand into a fist, and glanced at his brother. "Not that I want it to happen again. It was also scary. It felt like I was . . . burning or something."

Ed bumped his fist against Al's shoulder, an unspoken affirmation of his promise—Al _would_ feel again, someday. "It was the same when he grabbed my arm. I think he was making the steel react to the alchemy somehow. The iron in your blood-seal must've been affected." He'd done a few tests, and normal alchemy didn't make his arm react. Whatever it had been resonating too must have been unique to that particular kind of transmutation.

Mustang came back just as Ed was finishing up with his report. He looked up as the older man sat behind the desk, a muted expression of either irritation or discomfort on his face. As Ed watched, he let out a sigh and dropped a folder onto the desk.

"Daniel Thayne, formerly the Copper-thread Alchemist," he informed them. "Unfortunately, Mr. Thayne was declared dead by the hospital just under an hour ago."

Al made a sound of pity, but Ed merely frowned as he opened the folder. It would have been miraculous if he'd lived through that impaling.

"He was a childhood friend of the Oxgraves, particularly Matthew," the colonel continued, rubbing his forehead. It looked like he'd had a chance to clean up, and his head was now bandaged neatly. "He passed the alchemy exam shortly before Ishval, but suffered a nervous breakdown on the battlefield and was sent home and subsequently discharged. After that, he more or less dropped off the radar. His specialty was minerals."

"That's a big jump from minerals to tripwires," Al mused.

Ed grunted, not looking up from the folder. It actually made perfect sense, but he wasn't about to explain why.

"There's also a number of years we know little about," Mustang said, smoothly cutting out any need for explanation. "But for now, it will have to do. As soon as we turn in our reports, the investigation is closed."

Ed's eyes snapped up from a transcription of the arrays on Thayne's hands. "That's awfully quick."

"Yes, it is." He picked up Ed's report, barely meeting the younger alchemist's eyes. "But it's not my decision."

"Just like that? We're supposed to drop the case?"

"Yes, Fullmetal, we are." The look he shot the young man was sharp but unreadable. "I notified my superiors of Mr. Thayne's passing, and was informed that there was 'no longer a need for an investigation,' and that we were to 'cease all activity on the case' and 'surrender all relevant information' by tomorrow noon."

Ed sputtered, though for once his ire was aimed at someone other than the man behind the desk. "That's ridiculous!"

"Those are our orders."

"But—"

The colonel raised an eyebrow. Ed waited for a verbal jab, or a sarcastic remark, or _something_ , but the older man turned his attention back to the report without so much as a smirk.

Ed frowned and turned back to the folder, only to look up again a moment later. Mustang might as well have been an ice-colonel for all the emotion he was displaying. Even the irritation was gone.

He cleared his throat. "So, um, how's your head?"

Mustang flipped the top page to the back. "Fine, thank you. The doctors don't think it's cause for concern."

"Oh. Okay. That's—that's good." How was he supposed to respond to such . . . blandness?

"You misspelled 'concrete.'"

Ed dropped his head to his hands and shoved his fingers through his hair.

He managed to hold himself back until they had reached the sidewalk outside of headquarters. Which was quite a feat, since he felt about ready to level half the building.

"What the hell— _what the hell_?"

"Brother—?"

"What the hell is his _problem_?"

"Brother, are you talking about the case, or . . .?"

" _No_ , it's—he's just so— _gaaah_!" He lashed out at the nearest solid object, a nearby signpost. The impact shock wave that traveled up his automail was satisfying, but ultimately, didn't do anything to improve his mood.

" _Brother_ , don't vandalize."

Ed stuffed his hands in his pockets, kicking at roadside trash while Al fixed the bent pole. He'd been so stupid. Down there in the caves, it had seemed like he and Mustang had been interacting like equals. Like they'd been friends. He'd thought that maybe . . . maybe Mustang could think of him as something other than an annoying brat and a subordinate. But now the colonel was back to being the aloof, detached man Ed had been used to. No, he was _worse_. He wasn't even being sarcastic or trying to get a rise out of Ed. It was like. . . .

Ed drew his foot back and took aim at a bench, but then lost the motivation. He sighed and tapped his foot against one of the legs.

Mustang had acted like he didn't matter. He'd been _indifferent_. In the past, the colonel had mocked him, been irritated with him, and even, Ed had to admit, treated him with respect a time or two, but he'd never been indifferent. Ed had always meant _something_ to him.

At least, that's what he'd thought.

"Edward?"

He looked up as Hawkeye came down the steps. He had vaguely noticed that she'd accompanied the colonel when he'd returned to the office, but he'd been too distracted and hadn't really paid her any attention.

Hawkeye studied him for a moment, a small smile on her face, before saying, "Edward . . . you're going to have to make the first move."

". . . Huh?" He blinked at her dumbly.

"Given your age difference and your positions in the military, any sort of advance from him could be too easily misinterpreted," she continued. "He feels it would be . . . inappropriate."

"Uh." She couldn't be talking about what it sounded like she was talking about. "Um, what d'you. . . ."

"Please don't mistake his behavior for indifference." She smiled again, and the expression had an odd, wistful quality. "It actually comes from something else entirely." After a beat, in which Ed was wondering whether the lieutenant could somehow read minds, she added, "Take care of him."

With that, she gave him a friendly salute, and left. He stood staring at the spot where she had been, his face slowly heating as her meaning dawned on him. "She couldn't mean. . . ."

Al had taken a sudden interest in a nearby tree, but there was an awful lot of clanking for something so innocuous.

"Al! Just what the _hell_ did you two _talk about_?"

* * *

Roy poured himself a glass of brandy and then crossed to the bookshelf, hoping to find some sort of distraction for the evening. Partway through scanning the spines he realized he hadn't really been reading any of the titles. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was tempting to blame his lack of focus on the concussion, but he knew better. He _should_ be ruminating on the assignment and the brick wall his superiors had inexplicably thrown up. Instead, his mind was preoccupied with a certain golden-eyed alchemist. He grimaced when an unwelcome image from earlier that evening flashed through his mind. Edward could never hide his emotions. The confusion and hurt on his young face had almost been enough to make the older man relent.

The kid would get over it. It was best to put some distance between them now, before . . . it was just best to do this now. From the looks Hawkeye had been giving him she obviously didn't agree, but he could take it up with her later. Edward was on his own.

He sipped the drink and made another attempt at scanning the titles, trying his best to ignore the ache in his chest. This really was for the best.

A sharp pounding on the door made him jump, one hand falling to the pocket where he'd placed his gloves. The barrage repeated, with the distinct crispness of metal on wood. Roy scowled, cursing to himself even as he relaxed.

He tucked the gloves back away, and briefly considered not answering. This was exactly what he did not want to be dealing with right now. However, the next assault was accompanied by a muffled shout of, "I'll transmute the door off its hinges if I have to!"

Rolling his eyes, the colonel set his drink on an end table and reluctantly walked to the door. "I'll thank you not to destroy my property, Fullmetal," he called back as he undid the locks.

The young man shoved his way inside without so much as a by-your-leave, rounding on him with a snarl. "Don't fuck with me, you _shit_ —"

"Excuse me?"

Edward slammed the door, wrenching the knob out of the other man's hand, and advanced on him. "Don't _fuck with me_. If you don't give a shit, then fine. But don't—don't—" He waved one arm with a wordless cry of frustration. " _Don't do what you did today_!"

Roy realized he had taken a step back and stopped himself from retreating further. He was not going to be intimidated in his own home. Especially by the likes of this boy. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're—"

"The _hell_ you don't!"

He flinched.

He cleared his throat and made a show of looking at the clock, using the distraction to get his façade back under control. "Fullmetal , it's late. We're both tired—"

"What am I to you?"

The blunt question snapped his gaze back to the young man in front of him. "What—?"

Edward's cheeks had gone red, but there was nothing timid or hesitant about the look in his sharp gold eyes. "Down there, it seemed like—like you cared about me. I mean _really_ cared. Like maybe—like maybe I was more than just another lackey to you." He scowled, advancing another step. "Then we're back in the office and suddenly you're acting like I don't mean shit. Which is it, Mustang? Which am I supposed to believe?"

Suppressing a wince as well as the urge to withdraw, he glanced longingly at the alcohol he'd left back in the living room. He could really use a drink. "That is . . . not an easy question to answer."

"It's only complicated 'cause you're making it complicated," the teen snapped.

Roy took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and cursing this boy for getting under his skin. "Is it?" he said, quietly.

Edward scoffed. "Either you care, or you don't. But don't fuck around with this—" he jerked a hand through the air. "—this hot and cold bullshit."

"And if— _if_ —I said I did? How would you propose we proceed? Dating? Romance? Is that what you're angling for?"

" _Fuuuuuck_!" He turned away and shoved his hands through his bangs, but not before Roy saw the blush that had flared across his cheeks again. "No! You're fucking complicating it again!"

"Then what do you propose, Fullmetal?" he repeated, layering as much ice onto the words as he dared.

The teen rounded on him, his eyes narrowing with a shrewdness that reminded Roy that _boy_ was no longer an appropriate descriptor. "What is it? What's stopping you? Regulations? Propriety? Some goddam personal code of honor? Because I'm not buying that all-or-nothing bullshit."

"Then _what_?" he snapped, stress and weariness getting the better of his temper. "A quick fuck, and then you'll be on your way? If that's what you're after, I can direct you to a much better place—"

" _No_!"

His left fist struck the wall a few inches from the older man's shoulder with a resounding _crack_ of plaster and wood, and Roy flinched.

"God _damn_ you, _no_. That's. . . ." He looked up, the flash of anger melting away, leaving emotions that played across his face too quickly to isolate. "Does it have to be so . . . so absolute? Can't it be . . . even if it's only every now and then, can't it be . . . _something_?"

Roy knew how he should answer. This wasn't a game they should play. For both their sakes, they should end this now. But he looked at the open longing in front of him and his tongue was paralyzed.

When he failed to answer, Ed's face fell. He stepped back, looking mutely up at him for a moment before turning toward the door. "Right. So. I guess we both go on pretending. Is that it?"

He should just let Ed turn and walk away. It was an easy, convenient way out. Letting the situation dissolve on its own was the most practical course of action.

Which was why Roy couldn't figure out why his hand was suddenly clutching at Ed's.

* * *

Ed startled, turning back and staring at the older man in open-mouthed confusion. Mustang was looking down at their joined hands as if he didn't understand his own actions. For a moment he looked like he might let go, apologize, and then tell him to be on his way.

But instead he closed his eyes, sighing, and then—tightened his grip.

"Maybe it's not . . . complicated," he said, each word carefully measured. "But that doesn't mean it's easy."

Ed wrapped his fingers around the other man's. "It can be," he ventured. "This doesn't have to be hard."

Mustang only looked at him. His expression was carefully neutral, but there was tension around his eyes.

"No one could know, I get that," Ed continued. "It would mean trouble for both of us." He edged closer. "But neither of us can really have a 'normal' relationship right now. I get that, too. Does that really mean we have to have _nothing_? Can't we. . . ." He floundered. He could explain alchemic theory in minute detail, but when it came to this, he didn't have the words. "Even if it's just sometimes, can't we . . . shit. I dunno what I'm saying, but there must be _something_ —"

An unexpected touch on his cheek stopped him. Mustang closed his eyes again, and for a moment, they both stood there. Hesitantly, the fingers brushed his hair back, and then settled into place at the nape of his neck. He seemed to be debating something, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable, something Ed found surprisingly endearing. Finally Mustang drew him forward the last few inches, and Ed let his head rest on the older man's chest.

The rapid heartbeat beneath his cheek was startling. Ed wrapped an arm around Mustang's waist and pressed against him, offering what comfort he could without knowing why he was agitated. It was strange seeing him like this, when he was usually so calm and collected.

A quiet sigh stirred his hair, and then Mustang's arms finally settled around him, holding him loosely. "This is . . . probably the stupidest thing I've ever done."

The teen pulled back enough to fix the older man with a glare. " _Stupid_ is what you tried to pull at the office."

He at least had the decency to look contrite. "That—"

"Shut up, Mustang."

Before he could retort, Ed gave in to impulse, going up on tiptoe to press their mouths together.

* * *

Roy fell back against the wall and Edward followed, leaning up against him and tightening the grip on his waist. It was too sloppy to really be called a kiss, but no one could fault the teen's enthusiasm. Against his better judgement, Roy found himself kissing back.

How long had it been since he'd shared a genuine, passionate kiss with someone? How long had it been since he'd had another man pressed up against him like this? The current political climate didn't allow for such deviations from the social norm. It had been safer to not take the risk.

At least, a small voice told him, that had always been a good excuse.

Ed was starting to get the hang of kissing, though he seemed to be approaching it like an attack. Roy worked on coaxing gentler movements out of the young man, trying to show him that it was more like a dance than a battle. It helped keep his attention off the part of his mind that was quietly going into a panic. This was a stupid move, politically, socially, and personally, and he was in too deep to back out now.

Edward adjusted his footing and leaned up again. Unfortunately this rubbed against a particularly sensitive area, and the older man's body decided to react.

Roy jerked back, breaking the kiss, but Ed had him essentially pinned. There was no chance of extracting himself without giving away what was happening.

Annoyance flashed across the teen's features, and for a second he looked like he might complain—and then realization obviously hit, as his eyes went wide, and he made a wordless exclamation. He also pressed himself against the other man's groin. Seeking confirmation, no doubt. Ever the scientist.

"Ed, I—" He broke off in a strangled moan when the teen rubbed.

"You're getting hard for me." The tone held amazement, but there was definite mischief on his face. The brat grinned, and deliberately gyrated.

Groaning, both at the stimulation and at the unbelievable situation, Roy let his head fall back—and winced.

Ed grimaced in sympathy, and worked his flesh hand between the older man's head and the wall, cupping the abused area. "Idiot."

"Ed. . . ." Roy leaned against the hand, touched by the gesture. He took a deep breath, trying to pull together the tattered edges of his control. "I don't want to make assumptions. How far. . . ."

"If I wanted to stop, you'd fucking know it."

He chuckled. "I suppose I would."

"You're trying to make this difficult again. I mean, _this_ —" he gyrated again, and Roy had to swallow a moan, "—should be simple. Shouldn't it? Besides," he added, gently tapping the bandage beneath his fingers, "aren't you supposed to have someone watching you tonight?"

"The doctor might have said something along those lines," he admitted, his voice coming out a bit more strained than he liked.

Grinning again, Ed shifted, and a tell-tale bulge pressed against his thigh. "So—can't we have some fun at the same time?"

Roy closed his eyes. He made it sound so simple. Roy had no doubt that that was exactly how he saw it. The young man made his way through life by tackling problems head-on, hammering at them until he found a good solution. Roy envied him his way of looking at the world, but most things, including this, whatever _this_ was, were not that straightforward.

Edward shifted against him, and lips bumped against his jaw in something that may have been a kiss. "You're thinking too hard, Mustang."

He could feel the warmth radiating off the compact, muscular form pressed against him, could smell the tang of sweat against steel, and his arms tightened, almost without thought. Maybe it could be simple. At least for tonight.

He opened his eyes, and met the bright gold that grinned up at him from a few inches away. "If we're going to go forward with this, you could at least call me by my given name."

"Roy, then. Fuck, it's weird calling you that."

Roy grinned back, then pulled the young man up for another kiss.

* * *

After making sure his darling angel was tucked in and safely off to dream-land, Maes returned to his home office, shutting the door so he wouldn't disturb his family. He frowned at the notes on his desk; even with the information that had just come in—the identity of the alchemist, his connection to the Oxgraves—the assignment still didn't add up.

Roy and Ed had both been requested specifically. As the nearest high-ranked alchemist the case was technically Roy's jurisdiction by default, but that didn't explain Ed's involvement. It also didn't explain why they'd been suddenly shut down, just as they were starting to get answers. The excuse of the threat being gone, making further investigation a waste of resources, might look good on paper, but just didn't sit well. Especially now that he'd gotten wind of an order to have the Oxgrave house, including the basement, demolished.

Sighing, the intelligence officer sank into the desk chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. The Brass were keeping their own council on this one. He'd keep his ear to the ground, but he didn't expect much to leak out.

Maes chuckled to himself. This mess has had one benefit, at least: it had gotten those two working together. Roy never said much, even to him, but the little he did say was enough. Roy admired the kid and had for years, that much was clear to anyone who cared to look. He'd also grown attached to him, in that charming, almost innocent way he had.

It was only recently, as the kid grew up, that the attachment had become something different from the affection he had for all his subordinates. Roy, of course, was stubbornly determined to deal with his feelings by pretending they didn't exist. As his friend, Maes was duty-bound to make sure that didn't happen. Roy had been hiding himself behind his ambitions for far too long. Ed would be perfect for him—someone he could go toe-to-toe with, who wasn't afraid to call him on his bullshit. The fact that he was a kind-hearted little menace and just as honor-bound in his own way as Roy didn't hurt, either. The problem was, he was also just as tightly focused. If this assignment got the two of them out of their respective shells and interacting on a more personal level, then it wasn't a total waste.

Speaking of, he really should check in with Roy. His friend might have more to tell him that he couldn't say over the military lines. Judging by the tight, formal speech and his emotional distance when they'd spoken briefly just before getting off work, something had been bothering him. Maes ran a hand through his hair and picked up the phone.

He counted eight rings before Roy picked up with a hasty "Mustang."

He leaned back in his chair, frowning into the receiver. "I was beginning to think the hospital decided to keep you after all. Or had you gone to bed early?"

"No, I was—in the middle of something."

He raised an eyebrow. Did the man sound breathless? "Something important?"

"Just something that I—" Roy's voice broke off with an odd little hitch, and there was a flurry of rustling before he heard the muffled scrape of a hand being placed over the mouthpiece.

"If I've caught you at a bad time, I can call back," he suggested. "Say, in a few minutes?"

"Actually, I think I'm going to be tied up for the rest of the evening," came the rushed answer. "I'll call you tomorrow."

The phone clattered back onto the base before he had a chance to reply. Maes stared at his own receiver and the now-dead line with bemusement while he mentally reviewed the brief conversation. Well.

He hung up the phone, grinning as he realized there was only one explanation that fit all the evidence.

Well. That was better than he'd hoped for.

* * *

Ed grinned against Roy's stomach as the other man all but threw the phone onto the base, and gave tempting flesh another nip.

Roy jerked, then grumbled as he fell back onto the floor, hooking his hands beneath Ed's arms and tugging. "Evil little brat."

Ed squirmed up until he was straddling the older man, his hands on either side of his head and his knees against his hips. "Hey! Just who are you calling 'little'?"

"Well. . . ." He smirked, sliding a hand down into the open fly and cupping the teen between the legs. "Not you, obviously."

"Damn right I'm not," he growled, grinding himself into Roy's palm.

Ed leaned down to kiss and nip along Roy's jaw, reveling in the way the older man tipped his head back, exposing his throat. He suspected that whatever had caused Mustang's hesitance earlier had merely been placed aside, but for the moment, he accepted and trusted the young man enough that he wasn't holding back.

"I'll never hear the end of this," Roy muttered, even as he tugged Ed's hips down to meet his own.

"Hmm?" Ed inquired against the other man's neck.

"Hughes," he explained, pausing to let out a shaky moan as the younger man ground against him. "There's no way he'll let this go."

"Mm." So that's who was on the phone. "You're saying he'll figure it out?"

"It's a fine time to worry about that now."

Ed scoffed. "Like you would have let me get away with that if it had been someone important."

Roy didn't respond, but his fingers started to kneed patterns into Ed's ass and the young man wriggled with delight, earning another moan. The taller man arched against him and Ed slipped his hands beneath his back, stroking his shoulders and ribs as they rubbed their groins together. They hadn't even done anything besides groping and rubbing and exploring each other with mouths and hands, but already it was worlds beyond anything he had dared to imagine. Having someone there to hold, having Mustang, _Roy_ , there to touch and to taste, was intoxicating.

Some time later, after finally relocating to the bedroom, Ed lay with his head pillowed on Roy's arm, sighing in contentment as his hand stroked over his hair and down his back. Judging by the idle movement and the unfocused gaze, Mustang was thinking again, but since he was still pressed close to the younger man, still lying with their legs twined together, Ed was willing to let him think. The closeness and the petting were making him pleasantly drowsy, and he let his eyes drift closed, nuzzling into the older man's chest.

The hand paused for a moment, and then held him close, and he felt lips pressed against the crown of his head. "I assume you'll be on the road again, soon," Roy murmured.

"Mm-hm. We were kinda . . ." he yawned, "kinda in the middle of researching something when you called us back here."

"I see." He fell silent, as his thumb caressed the edge of the automail port. Ed stretched into the touch. "How long do you think that will take?"

"Dunno."

"I see."

The teen shifted his arm around the other man's waist. The question had been neutral enough, but he thought he'd heard something else beneath it. "Al's always trying to get me to take breaks more often," he ventured. "We'll probably be back in East before long."

Roy was quiet for another moment, before pressing his face against Ed's hair and murmuring, "Good."


End file.
